


Yeah sex is cool, but...

by TheNim



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Drunken Confessions, Fluff and Angst, M/M, a bit of snogging but nothing serious, sad tamlen stuff because i'm still not over him, the warden is a shy bastard, zevran is this close to losing all his (scarce) self-control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:47:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26533852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNim/pseuds/TheNim
Summary: Irvin Mahariel is a singular soul.Zevran is hopelessly pursuing him, thinking he has no chance to actually go anywhere.But an invitation to the Warden's tent helps them discover each other.
Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Male Mahariel, Zevran Arainai/Male Warden, Zevran Arainai/Warden
Kudos: 29





	Yeah sex is cool, but...

It had been over four months since Zevran had tried to kill the Grey Warden, failing miserably in the process, and he could safely say it was one of the best things to ever happen to him.

Don't get him wrong, risking to get mauled by darkspawn every other day of the week was starting to get kind of old, but he had to admit that traveling with this weird group that had inadvertently saved his life made every day feel just a little more bright.

The best thing to come out of this impromptu arrangement though had been the opportunity to meet Irvin Mahariel.

The first time Zevran saw him, while shouting a threat and unsheathing his blades, he hadn't been able to really get a look at the man's face. It made assassinations much easier: the less you knew, the faster you would take the final blow.

But when he woke up with his hands tied and an elf towering over him while looking like a freaking god of vengeance, he'd had enough time to take in every single feature.

Red longish hair framing a pale visage covered in blue vallaslin, and two deep stern eyes sizing him up. The face in front of him couldn't be considered "pretty", too many sharp angles and a grim expression, but something about it was so incredibly attractive that Zevran hadn't been able to refrain from flirting any time he had the chance.

Sure, he was going to do it anyway, flattery had helped him so many times after all. He was used to it, people would either go along with it for a quick fuck or sneer in disgust and kick harder.

The Warden's reaction had not only been far from what he'd expected, but also the beginning of his end. The man had blushed, actually blushed with his eyes wide, and had stammered that lying through his teeth wouldn't get him anywhere.

"B-but I'm a man!" He had even said at some point, his deep voice cracking up in utter astonishment, and proceeded to look absolutely mortified and blush a violent crimson up to his pointy ears. Zevran had wanted to take him right then and there, or at least that was how he'd interpreted the weird jerk he'd felt in his chest.

Irvin was a peculiar character indeed, that much he had come to learn.

Zevran couldn't wrap his head around how someone could be so stoic and charismatic during important business, and still awkwardly blabber his way through a conversation about virginity he'd once had with Alistair.

It was clear that Irvin didn't really care for casual companionship, or at least that was what Zevran had noticed so many times during their travels. Morrigan's 'veiled' advances, Isabela's more than clear interest, and Leliana's talk about seduction.

Almost every time he'd been completely unfazed while politely declining the offers, until Sanga had asked if he would prefer the Pearl's male whores, to which he'd nearly choked on his own spit.

Thus, Zevran had always shown his more than obvious attraction for the Warden almost as an afterthought, sure he was never going to get anywhere with it.

Until Irvin asked him to his tent.

* * *

Irvin's face was as neutral as always, and he kept his gaze steady as he patted Zevran's back to help him cough out the water he'd been drinking when Irvin had come to him.

"What?" Was all that Zevran could croak out, followed by an ungraceful wheeze. He must have misheard, of course Irvin wouldn't be able to proposition someone so casually.

Irvin simply furrowed his eyebrows. "I asked if you could join me in my tent? Oh, of course, you're tired. Today's been rough. I'll leave you be then."

As he motioned to walk away, Zevran felt a weird desperation tug at his stomach. This was his chance, he was finally going to get laid with the man he'd pursued for weeks and he was blowing it.

"Nononono, wait!" When he'd imagined how he would behave in this situation, during the many nights he'd thought about it (far more than he was comfortable admitting), it surely didn't begin with him sounding like a starved man while tugging at Irvin's sleeve. "I'm not tired, I'm quite reinvigorated actually. Yes, let's go."

They had attracted quite a bit of attention from the rest of the group, and Zevran loudly ignored Leliana's wicked smirk and Alistair's badly hidden chagrin as he tugged a very confused Irvin to the back of camp.

When the tent's flaps closed behind them, Zevran sat down for a moment and looked at his partner, who still hadn't made any sort of move. Irvin's back was to him as he rummaged through his personal belongings.

'Ah, he's probably going straight to business.' Zevran thought, and started to undress.

"I didn't know what you would like, so I just settled for some wi-w-what are you doing?!"

Zevran stopped his efforts to remove his armor as fast as physically possible to see a dumbfounded Warden staring at him while holding a bottle of cheap Fereldan wine. Zevran was understanding less and less by the second.

"Oh, well, just getting comfortable," he tried to play it cool, despite feeling far from comfortable. "Why-what do you want to do?" 

Irvin's expression turned somber.

"I thought a lot after we left Zathrian’s clan." After a pause, he had decided to cut it short. Instead of elaborating, he uncorked the bottle and downed a good portion of the wine in one gulp, before suppressing a disgusted shiver at the pungent taste of bad alcohol.

" _Dirthara-ma_ , what the fuck do they put in this?" He sputtered, his cheeks turning an alluring shade of red. Again Zevran felt that almost painful pang in his chest. Whatever it was, he still didn't know if he liked it or not.

Before continuing, Irvin passed him the bottle. The alcohol burned a pleasant path down Zevran's throat.

"I thought I was beyond it but," Irvin said in a timid whisper, "I can't seem to forget about my clan. About what made me become a Grey Warden." He seemed to be distant, thinking about whatever was clearly tormenting him, and Zevran stayed quiet.

Irvin had never opened up about his past, and to learn anything about what he called his 'previous life' had become treasured to many of their companions. With the objectivity and calmness typical of his character the Grey Warden was always a keen listener, so much so that even Morrigan herself had sometimes felt compelled to offer an ear on the days he'd seemed under the weather.

Of course, Irvin had never been unwilling to share information when asked, but only to Wynne and Leliana he had actually asked for help about personal matters. For him to bring up such a delicate topic with Zevran... it couldn't be easy.

Was he really the right person for this? The assassin was speechless.

"I know this is sudden. And I shouldn't put you in this position. It's just **–** " Irvin sighed in frustration, and snapped the wine out of Zevran's hand to quickly throw down another generous amount of red wine. This time, the poor elf coughed at the sheer taste.

"Sometimes I still find myself thinking about him. And it's foolish and wrong, and I-I don't know." He did a frustrated wave with his hand. "I don't know if I should bring up these memories. Or if you even care."

"I do, my dear Warden. I care about everything you tell me." Zevran paused, his tone sweet but uncertain. "But I think Wynne would **–** "

"No," Irvin tilted his head, one of his rare smiles timidly blooming on his face. His maroon hair moved to cover his flushed cheek. "You are the only one that should know. About how much I keep missing him and my clan."

Irvin shook his head, sinking down to lay near Zevran's thigh and chuckled deeply into his chest. He was already tipsy. "It's stupid really, the fearless leader and only hope against the Blight feeling homesick and regretting his every choice."

In that moment Zevran felt compelled to move the locks that messily covered the Warden's forehead. His fingers twitched in his lap, but he firmly gripped the bottle instead and drank the remaining wine. After taking a deep breath, he said "You do great things, and you surely don't need me to remind you. Everyone doubts themself at some point. We all trust you, and I think that may be enough, hm?"

When he stopped examining the bottle and tried a glance in Irvin's direction, the Warden was looking at him with a thoughtful gaze. As soon as their eyes met, Irvin closed his eyelids and sprawled on his bedroll. He almost seemed to have fallen asleep, until he began speaking in his usual deep, gravelly tone. He whispered softly, because his words were for them alone.

And so Zevran learned about the taint, about Tamlen's disappearance, and about Irvin's deep, deep remorse.

"I wish I could've at least looked for him. I justified myself, it was easier to give in to the keeper’s pleas. But deep down, I was terrified. Terrified I wouldn't find him, that I would find him dead, that he **–** " He stopped, and pursed his lips.

Zevran had never seen Irvin cry, but he was pretty damn sure the poor man was close to it. He was about to speak when he felt something soft touch his hand. He froze, heartbeat picking up when he realized Irvin had nudged the assassin's hand with his cheek.

Such a light touch wouldn't have fazed Zevran in the slightest in a normal situation, but this wasn't a normal situation. Again, the Crow felt a weird twisting in his stomach, and his palms started sweating.

‘He’s clearly drunk, Zevran. Don’t you even _think_ about doing someth **–** ’ He was derailed from his thoughts, however, when the Warden kissed his knuckles.

Irvin was looking at him again, his hazel eyes shining in the dim light of the oil lamp in what Zevran's brain could only interpret as a seductive manner. The tart smell of wine, Irvin's scent permeating the air, the damp breathing against the skin of Zevran's wrist. It was too much.

"You know," Zevran faked an easy smirk, despite feeling as if he were burning from head to toes. He swallowed, finding his throat dry. "This kind of situation usually ends with someone sticking their tongue in my mouth, or in other places if they're particularly inclined."

Instead of blushing furiously or ignoring him, Irvin smiled sweetly. "Oh, many of your partners shared their life story with you then? Here I was hoping to be your first." He said it lightly, but the sultry tone wasn't typical of his sarcasm.

All of a sudden, Irvin grabbed Zevran’s shoulder and yanked him down on the ground with him. His hot breath smelled of alcohol: he was clearly intoxicated.

"Well I didn't expect this to, uhm," Zevran hesitated. The Warden's forehead touched his, and the scent of pine invaded Zevran's nostrils. 

Irvin looked at him through lidded eyes, his hair tickling Zevran's face and his lean arms embracing him. This was going exactly the way the assassin had wanted, but now he was definitely unsure if he should indulge or not.

"Zevran," Irvin caressed his cheek, mumbling nonsense and laying his head on the Crow's chest. "Your skin is so soft. How can someone like you even exist? Everytime I see you I wonder why you keep courting me when you could take everyone you wished."

"What are you **–** "

"Shhhh, lemme speak, my dear." Irvin carded a hand through Zevran's hair. The touch was so gentle it raised goosebumps all over Zevran's arms. After another long pause, followed by a sigh, the Warden continued.

"I don't know how to, well, _do_ things. Or if you even-" Irvin shook his head in frustration. "But I will be ready. I want to. Yes." It took Zevran a second to understand what Irvin was trying to say. His Warden was so extremely cute, he thought. Zevran willed himself to keep his hands still on the other's shoulder blades, and not explore further.

"Of course. Take all the time you need." Zevran smiled fondly. “I couldn’t call myself a gentleman otherwise.”

He regretted his statement almost as soon as he said it, because Irvin planted a wet kiss on his neck, since it was the first thing his lips could reach.

"Thank you, _ma vhenan_ ," Irvin whispered into his shoulder before hugging him firmly and snuggling even closer than before. “Sometimes I wonder why I didn’t choose death when it was offered to me. And the answer comes every single time.” His eyes started to close while he blabbered.

Before Zevran could even think of a response to that, the Warden had fallen asleep. Despite the need to elaborate what exactly those words meant, the comfortable weight against him and Irvin's regular breaths made him soon follow into a deep, peaceful slumber.

* * *

The morning sun shone through the tent and warmed Zevran's face. From outside came voices and various sounds of cooking and training: it was early, and the camp was waking up.

Zevran smiled lazily and searched blindly for Irvin with his arm, but soon realized he was alone. He sat up, mulling about the events of the night before, concluded he couldn’t worry about it on his own and darted out to search for the Warden.

As soon as Zevran left the tent, he was met by three pairs of eyes curiously watching him with varying amounts of awkwardness.

"Good morning, Zevran." Wynne was the first one to speak, and the only one since both Alistair and Morrigan weren't much disposed to acknowledge him. 

One was trying her damned hardest to just completely ignore everything around her as she aggressively poked at the fire with a stick; while the other seemed to be lost between finding an excuse to run away or simply pretending to have gone deaf.

He apparently had decided on the second, but Zevran spared him the hassle and said "Morning. Where's the Warden?" A spark of concern lit Wynne's features, and she answered.

"He's near the river. He seemed to be in a hurry, is something the matter?" But before she could even finish the question, he was gone.

The faint melody of a flute was the first thing to reach Zevran's ears. It was difficult to catch with the nearby river's loud roar, but he had learned to search for it. The Warden always retreated in some secluded nook and played when he needed to be by himself. The others respected the silent request, avoiding that part of their camp and simply listening to the ghostly tune carrying over from the forest. However, in that moment, Zevran needed to see the Warden, to touch him, to taste him, to love-

Irvin was sitting on a high branch of an oak, Maker knew how he always managed to climb every possible surface, one leg dangling in the air and eyes closed. The green sunlight that filtered from the treetops clothed him like a halo. 

As Zevran came closer, he noted Irvin wore a lighter attire than usual, softer and more comfortable than the hard scales of his armor. His ears twitched when Zevran stepped on some dried leaves, and the music stopped. Two bright eyes looked down at the assassin with a mix of worry and embarrassment.

"Hi there, my dear Warden." Zevran found himself smiling even brighter when Irvin looked to the side and sheepishly nodded as a greeting. The Warden didn't move, as if he felt safer up there.

"Aw, you wound me." Zevran faked a pout. "I can't fully appreciate your beautiful features from down here."

Irvin hesitated for a moment, clearly still doubtful. After coming to a sort of decision, with a nimble jump he was in front of Zevran in a few seconds. The two only looked at each other for a long moment.

"Hey." Irvin paused to bite the inside of his cheek as he seemed to mull over something. "I've been thinking."

"Oh really? Now that's surprising." Without either of them noticing, Zevran was inching closer, a smug grin growing wider and wider.

"I was irresponsible last night. I'm sorry." A sorrowful expression clouded Irvin's sharp visage.

Zevran's smile fell a bit. "What do you mean?"

"Getting drunk and saying all that in your face. If you resent me I perfectly understand."

"Wait wait." Zevran raised a hand in sheer disbelief. "You think I'm angry?"

"I don't know, I just wish things would've gone differently. To have talked that way is disrespectful."

Zevran was close to laughter. Was he serious? That was disrespectful? He couldn't believe this, this infuriating man. He was starting to get irritated by Irvin's self-chastising behaviour.

"So you regret what you said." The statement was meant to be provoking but, much to Zevran's dismay, it sounded resentful.

No response came for some long moments. Zevran's heart felt heavy and it hurt.

"You deserve better than that," Irvin willed the phrase out of his lips. The whole conversation was clearly taking a toll on him.

"Oh really? What is it that I deserve?!" Rarely had Zevran lost his temper, but the snarky tone of his voice betrayed his feelings. Irvin shrank under Zevran’s stare, looking anywhere other than in the assassin’s direction.

"Tamlen was special. He made me feel things, that I never thought I could feel. For years I' wanted what I knew he couldn't give me, and I yearned and ached for something I couldn't even define. When I became a Grey Warden, I was sure I could never ever care about someone the way I had cared about him. But here I am now, burning everytime our eyes meet and wondering what am I supposed to do, if I can be what you expect me to be. This feeling, it’s-it’s terrifying."

Even though Irvin's voice was as steady as always, it held so many emotions that Zevran had rarely ever heard. Irvin was literally pouring his heart out for him.

When Zevran's fingers touched his hand, he jerked in surprise, but let the Crow's tanned and warm hands encircle his own pale ones. Irvin's lips curved slightly when he noted how dainty those fingers looked compared to his own calloused ones. Zevran's next words were whispered reverently against his right temple in that usual rich accent, making him shiver.

"You are already everything I expect you to be, and so much more. I want you as you are, _tesoro_."

A hand tentatively brushed against Zevran's golden hair. "Can I?" The assassin nodded with a silly smile.

Irvin sucked in a breath and held onto Zevran's head to shyly trace the curve of his jaw, leaving feathered kisses all over his cheeks and on the side of his mouth.

Zevran couldn't bear being treated this gently, it made him feel fragile. He scratched his nails against Irvin's scalp and led him into a full-fledged kiss. This earned a choked gasp from the Warden's mouth that soon turned into a sweet moan.

This was most likely Irvin's first kiss. The thought lit a spark of guilty pleasure down the assassin's spine. It took only a sweep of Zevran's tongue against his Warden's gums to earn him a string of delightful sounds.

Many times had Zevran revelled in his partners' pleasure. But strangely enough, never had someone bewitched him so much that he felt fire light up under his skin from every touch, breath and shiver of the beautiful creature in his arms.

Pinned against the tree trunk Irvin pliantly accepted everything Zevran gave him. A squeeze of his hips and he gasped, shifting to push against Zevran's body and muttering something in elvish.

"Creators, please," he pleaded, seemingly not even knowing what he wanted.

Dear Maker, Zevran was getting worked up way faster than normal. His self control was soon going to be completely thrown out of the window. The surprised "ah!" Irvin moaned when Zevran snaked a hand down his pants to grab the perfect, firm ass that a plate of armor always covered, was enough to shatter the last fragment of decency he was desperately clinging to.

He was about to drop to his knees when Irvin simply said "No! Stop." And Zevran froze instantly.

"Wow. Sweet Mythal." Irvin panted as he caught his breath, exhilarated. "I would..." He wet his lips, and Zevran hungrily followed the movement with glazed eyes. He was so gone. "Can we continue later, in my tent? It doesn't feel right doing it here."

Zevran's eyes widened. The last thing he'd considered was Irvin's natural modesty. "Of course **–** "

"Well well well." A heavily accented voice broke the bubble of carelessness the two had been surrounded by.

Lelian huffed to move a lock of hair from her face, and crossed her arms. Her eyes scanned every detail of the scene: Irvin's disheveled appearance, Zevran's hands over his ass, the iron grip to which Zevran's neck was being subjected to.

She smirked. "Am I interrupting something? We are ready to move, but I'll leave you two be."

Irvin blushed up to the roots of his hair and quickly tore Zevran's hands away from his buttocks. The assassin's heart mourned at the loss.

"Leliana, my apologies. We were, uhm- _fenhedis_ -we'll join you immediately." He unstuck himself from Zevran's chest and tried to regain a bit of his usual composure.

"But of course." Leliana nodded, shit-eating grin stuck on her face, and turned back to return to the camp.

Zevran casually readjusted his erection to try and at least seem presentable. For the first time, he regretted wearing such light clothing. With his head full of curses and frustration, he readied himself for another day of traveling in the middle of nowhere.

A hand found his and squeezed it. He turned to see Irvin smiling at him, a full, gentle smile that crinkled his eyes and formed dimples on his cheeks. He returned the smile and started following Leliana. He felt incredibly light, like he could walk up to the sky and beyond, and he liked every part of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so give me a tablet, no wifi and a vacation in the middle of fucking nowhere and ta-da! Here comes this mess.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed finally getting out the story of how my Warden got together with his murderous soulmate. I love these two, and since my character wouldn't have really behaved like in the game, I wrote this. I know I should be working on other stuff but whatever. See you soon!
> 
> Oh and "tesoro" means darling in italian. Buh-bye!


End file.
